


You May Go Dancing, but I'll Hold the Tune

by though_she_be_but_little



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, The Marriage of Figaro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/though_she_be_but_little/pseuds/though_she_be_but_little
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire are both servants in the household of Count Montparnasse. When Enjolras discovers the Count's advances towards Grantaire he is less than pleased. As Grantaire's attempts to fend off the Count continually backfire, their plans to save their relationship without ruining the Countess Eponine get more and more ridiculous. But how does the cherub of love Marius come into it?A Les Mis/Marriage of Figaro crossover.





	1. Chapter 1

“Keep your eyes closed,” Enjolras’ voice was humming with excitement as he drew Grantaire into the room by his hand. They were both servants in the household of Count Montparnasse, Enjolras as his valet, Grantaire as first footman – a position got for him by Countess Eponine Montparnasse, his legitimate half-sister by the same father. They had grown up together – Grantaire’s mother being one of the maids, and despite both the difference in their stations and Eponine’s mother’s obvious and understandable detestation of him, they had become true siblings and firm friends, a relationship that had continued after her parents’ deaths when she had lived with her guardian, Dr Thenardier. When she had fallen in love and married the Count Montparnasse, she had incorporated Grantaire into the household as Footman and her personal confidante.  
Grantaire kept his other hand over his eyes but smiled indulgently at his lover’s excitement. Enjolras positioned him in the middle of the room, then stepped back, “alright, you may look.”  
Grantaire looked. Enjolras was grinning happily, waiting for his reaction. The room was small and mostly bare, though two beds sat in one corner, with a wardrobe and a chest of drawers in the other and a chair against the far wall. Confusion flashed through his features, “Enjolras, what is this?”  
“What does it look like, you idiot?” Enjolras laughed, wrapping his arms around Grantaire from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder, “It’s a room. It’s our room.”  
Grantaire broke out of the constricting hold and sat heavily on the rough blanket covered bed nearest him, staring at Enjolras, “What?”  
“They’ve had to move sleeping arrangements because of Musichetta and Joly’s upcoming wedding. The Countess insisted on giving them a new room together, though she said they ‘unfortunately’ had to share with Bossuet as they are short on space as it is.” Grantaire was smiling fondly at Eponine’s tact, until Enjolras continued, “Apparently, the Count himself requested that we should be given this room.”  
“Did he,” Grantaire’s face was closing off rapidly.  
“Yes,” Enjolras paused to take in the look on Grantaire’s face, “I don’t think he knows if that’s what you’re worried about”  
“I can’t stay here,” Grantaire ignored Enjolras’ pointed comment and rose to his feet. Enjolras could never understand why their form of love was shunned and hidden – this was 1786, not the middle ages. But Sodomy was against the law and neither of them could afford to lose their positions, and Grantaire could not let Enjolras be killed or even hurt in any way. Not over him.“Why not?” Enjolras’ smile was fading, to be replaced with irritation and hurt. “Listen, it’s perfect. It’s only a few steps from Count Montparnasse’s rooms, should he ring for me, it’s close to the servants’ hall and the front door, for your Footman duties and near the Countess’s rooms, if she wants you. What’s wrong with it?”  
“Perhaps the proximity to the Count!” Grantaire burst out before he calmed himself and started pacing and muttering to himself, “he would just be able to come down here whenever he wants and-“  
“R” Enjolras cut through the mans frantic babbling, “what are you talking about? What’s going on?” It was clear that his suspicious mind had jumped to the worst possible conclusion at once; that Grantaire was unfaithful to him.  
R frowned, “Thank you, Enjolras, for always thinking the best of me,” Enjolras said nothing but stood stiffly, watching the other man. “If you want to know what’s going on then you can stop being so damned suspicious to start with, I have never given you any cause to doubt me on that score. I never would.”  
“Are you going to explain, then?”  
“Why should I? Are you going to listen if I do?”  
“R-“  
“No!”  
Enjolras sighed, “R, I apologise for leaping to conclusions, now will you please explain what is going on?”  
“It’s the Count.”  
“What about him?”  
“Our dear Count has got through all the girls in the village. He’s decided to look a bit closer to home for his distraction and his gaze has settled on a male rather than female victim.” At Enjolras’ questioning gaze, Grantaire elaborated, “Me. And by putting us in this room he’s ensured his proximity and that bastard Claquesous acts as his go-between, always trying to find ways to trap us in the same room, going on about how advantageous it would be to be a Gentleman’s personal assistant – no, not valet,” he said to Enjolras’ face at that “personal assistant. For his personal enjoyment.”  
“Oh.” Had the situation been less serious, Grantaire would have found Enjolras’ face almost comical as he realised what that mean.  
“Exactly. So, unless you can think of a really good reason to keep the room-“  
“What?”  
Grantaire paused, “you’d forgotten about that, hadn’t you?”  
“You’ve just told me that our licentious count is chasing after my lover, who has apparently replaced his half-sister in the mans affections – and I’m not even getting into that greek tragedy waiting to happen – and you expect me to still think about the room?”  
“Well, you were very excited about it.”  
“R.”  
“Sorry, sorry.”  
“How long? And why didn’t you tell me?”  
“Enj, you have to work for the man – which I know you hate anyway, by the way – I’m not going to purposely turn you against him. We need the money, love, otherwise I would have left weeks ago.”  
“Weeks?”  
“Did I say weeks?”  
“Yes, you did,” snarled Enjolras, starting to pace the room. Grantaire kicked off his shoes and sat back on the bed, watching him. “So, Count Montparnasse is looking for some fun is he? I’m sure that can be arranged.”  
Grantaire opened his mouth to speak when a call came down the corridor, “Grantaire!”  
He glanced between Enjolras and the door before slipping his shoes back on. “Enj, please be careful-“ was all he managed to say before the door burst open and Bahorel came in.  
“Grantaire, there you are,” the second footman said, then noticed Enjolras, “Oh, Enjolras, hello.” He turned back to Grantaire, “We’ve got a problem. Bossuet’s broken a plate – one of the vintage china. Javert will fire him this time for certain.”  
Javert, the butler, was notoriously rigorous with the servants and his dislike for the groom’s clumsiness was common knowledge.  
Grantaire groaned, “Who let him near the crockery? Never mind. I’ll talk to Javert – it’s not like we ever use that set.”  
“Thank you, my friend. You’re a saint! Right before the wedding and everything…” Bahorel shook his head.  
Grantaire turned back to Enj, “I have to go. Don’t do anything rash.”  
“Bahorel,” the valet ignored him, “would you happen to know where Combeferre would be?”  
The other man frowned, “he might be in his room – Javert asked him to look at the accounts.”  
Enjolras nodded – this was nothing unusual, the footman’s scholarly background was invaluable in the running of the household accounts. He headed off down the corridor and threw himself onto Combeferre’s bed. The man peered at him over his round spectacles.  
“I take it you’re interrupting my work for a reason?” he asked politely.  
“Montparnasse is after R,” Enjolras said without introduction.  
Combeferre sighed and took his glasses off, before turning to the other man. “You found out.”  
Enjolras sat bolt upright, staring at Combeferre with a look of betrayal, “you knew?!”  
Combeferre pulled a face, “Grantaire asked me not to say anything. What are you going to do about it? You can hardly go openly against our lord and master. Particularly not without revealing your relationship.”  
“Well I can’t just let it slide!”  
“You do realise Grantaire can probably handle himself if things get too… extreme. He’d not thank you for getting fired for his sake. He likes being close to the Countess.”  
“And that’s another thing - the Countess doesn’t deserve to be treated like that,” Enjolras’ eyes flashed in anger, “The Count deserves public humiliation to say the least. Maybe if the Countess divorces him-“  
“Which she can’t do without just cause,” Combeferre pointed out.  
Enjolras’ outraged look would have made a lesser man cower but Combeferre looked calmly back, “you don’t think she has enough.”  
“For morality? Yes. For the law? You forget that the list of reasons why ladies can divorce their husband’s is shockingly short.”  
“So we need to make it publicly clear that she has grounds for it, without causing her any dishonour.”  
“Sodomy?”  
Enjolras glared. Combeferre sighed and pinched his nose, “Enjolras, please stop biting my head off, I’m on your side here. No, there isn’t anything wrong with it but you know as well as I do that it would be valid grounds for the Countess to divorce Montparnasse.”  
“Not with R.”  
“No, of course not. Though perhaps we need to remind the Count what he is supposed to stand for?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“If you and I were to suggest to the villagers that Montparnasse needed some gratitude for his generosity regarding the upcoming wedding, and also for his stance on male lovers-“ Combeferre held up a hand to staunch Enjolras’ tirade “It will mean that if he does try and pull something with Grantaire, his reputation will come under severe question and the Countess may have enough grounds to divorce him.”  
Enjolras was silent for a moment, “I’m not happy about it. But it’s the best plan we’ve got so far.”  
Combeferre nodded sagely, “I will need to finish these accounts first, or Javert will have my hide. After that we can go down to the village.”  
Enjolras huffed and stalked back to his and Grantaire’s room, still fuming.


	2. Chapter 2

Dr Thenardier was walking through the gardens with Mademoiselle Helene. He glanced around to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard before turning on the middle-aged spinster.

“I still don’t understand what you think I can do about this whole mess, Helene. I’m a lawyer not a miracle worker.”

“If my plan works we won’t need one,” she reassured him. “Listen. The only thing standing in the way of me marrying Enjolras is that revolting little rat Grantaire. The same Grantaire who is being sought after by Count Montparnasse.”

Dr Thenardier shifted, “As a lawyer I’m going to pretend not to hear the illegal charge of sodomy against the Count.”

“Pretend all you want, it still works to our advantage.”

“I’m not sure I quite see how?”

“You know the Count, Doctor. He doesn’t take rejection well. All we need to do is make sure Grantaire keeps refusing the count and the rat and his beautiful beau will be playing right into our hands.”

Understanding brightened on Thenardier’s face, “Because the Count will want to get Enjolras out of the way.”

“Precisely. But that will never happen unless something very big is at stake. So the Count, heartbroken over Grantaire’s latest rejection will seek revenge.”

“And you’ll be a witness?”

“To his charge of sodomy. Which can’t be a solo charge, so Enjolras will have to marry quickly to stop himself being accused - it’s common knowledge that they share a room, though most don’t imagine the depravity involved.”

Thenardier gave a rather wolfish grin, “Vicious and cruel. I love it. That little bastard Grantaire will be suitably punished for what he stole from me.”

Helene looked at him confusedly, “I didn’t realise you were anything more than acquaintances with Grantaire.”

“We met after you stopped working for me. He ruined my plans of marrying Eponine, my ward. I could have been rich beyond my dreams with her fortune but no, that little bastard had to pretend to be a white knight for the girl and stole her from my house by pretending to be a music teacher.”

Helene rolled her eyes. “Plan out your vengeance later,” she complained, “this must go off without a hitch and I won’t have you messing this up for me. You’ll just need to make Enjolras aware of the dangers he faces once you have Grantaire arrested. Which we can’t do without the Count’s say-so. You just need to work on the Count - feed his pride, and make him think that no one should refuse him. Once his pride’s bloated enough, Grantaire’s refusal will seem like a betrayal of everything Montparnasse’s rank stands for.”

Thenardier chuckled, “You never cease to surprise me, Mademoiselle Helene. Had you been a man, you could have ruled the world.”

“And had you been one, it wouldn’t have taken you this long to take your revenge,” she retorted, “now, go. Catch the Count when he comes back from hunting.” she pulled out a fan and flipped it open, “I think I see a certain footman who needs to be congratulated on his new accommodation,” she flashed a flirtatious smile at Thenardier before heading over to where she could see Grantaire smoking a clay pipe carefully out of sight of Fauchelevant, the gardener.

Grantaire puffed on the pipe and closed his eyes, trying to disperse his ever growing headache. He’d just had a very uncomfortable conversation with Javert in which he’d tried to convince the very disbelieving butler that Bossuet had been nowhere near the china cabinet all morning and therefore couldn’t possibly have broken the plate. In the end Javert had told him that if anything else got broken, both Bossuet and himself would be fired. Grantaire had pointed out his connection to Eponine.

“The Countess would understand,” Javert told him haughtily, “She knows more than anyone what disgrace can do to a noble name, and there are quite enough rumours about this household as it is.”

Grantaire had stayed silent. He knew the rumours - that the household was filled with sin, sodomites and adulterers. He also knew that the rumours about her husband hurt Eponine more than the rumours about the servants, whose activities she turned a blind eye towards when she wasn’t actively helping them. Grantaire worried about her and the strain she was under but he was at a loss of how to help.

“Yoo hoo! Monsieur!”

He was broken out of his reverie by a high pitched sing-song voice. Mademoiselle Helene was heading straight for him, waving her fan in greeting, an unpleasant smirk on her face. Out of instinct, Grantaire looked for somewhere to hide but Helene was upon him too fast.

“Monsieur, I hear congratulations are in order,” she said as she reached him. The simpering voice felt like a needle being forced through his temple.

“Mademoiselle,” he gave her a barely courteous bow, “I’m not quite sure what you are referring to, but you have my thanks all the same. Now if you will excuse me-”

She caught his arm in her claw-like grip and gave a girlish and entirely fake giggle, “There’s no need to play coy with me. I heard about the charming new room that you and Enjolras have been given. So kind of the dear Countess to give you somewhere so private.”

“I believe the Count had more of a hand in the placement of the room,” Grantaire tried to pull his arm away but she held fast.

“Indeed, and so clever of the count to have placed it in such a convenient place. It will be so easy for Enjolras to attend to him. And yourself, of course.”

The headache began to throb, “I do not attend to the Count, Mademoiselle.”

“Well, not yet. But now it’s more convenient-”

“I have no intention of attending to the Count, now or ever. Let me go, please.”

“What would the Count think if he knew you said that? He might be tempted to blame Enjolras.”

Grantaire ripped his arm out of grasp, “You witch,” he spat at her.

“Someone might have to rescue Enjolras from his disgusting sodomite of a roommate,” the smile had faded from Helene’s face and it had twisted into a very ugly expression, “I would hate for him to get tainted by his association with you.”

Grantaire’s heartbeat was thudding in his ears, “I am sure that he would rather be associated with me than with a bitter washed up old spinster like you.”

She spluttered at him for a moment, too angry for words, then slapped him round the face. Grantaire’s head snapped to the side with the strength of the blow but refused to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging the pain. He met her eyes again and they stared at each other, her copious chest seething with anger before she let out a huff, turned on her heel and stormed away.

Grantaire watched her go and only when she was out of sight did he allow himself to rub his stinging face and turn away. My god, he needed a drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I found this half-written chapter buried deep in my files and I thought this actually looked quite fun so I might take it up again.  
> The title is from an English translation of Le Nozze di Figaro by Mozart - the song in question being, "So, Little Master you're dressed to go dancing" or "Se Vuol Ballare" (It sounds better in the Italian)
> 
> It's also the first fic I've written in years have pity please


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